Chapter 18 – Alternate ending

Nothing.

Emptiness.

Stillness.

He couldn't see, hear, smell, or feel anything.

He just was.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Tiny drops, falling, making contact, absorbing, spreading. A trickle of warmth diffused throughout his being. It nourished him, healed him, gave him form.

He swallowed. He tasted. He could smell now. He could hear voices. And he felt blood thrumming and pumping all around him. His blood. Others' blood. He expanded and, bit by bit, could sense and feel his surroundings. He was becoming whole again.

It was her. He could smell, hear, and taste her. She was giving him life. He was drinking. She was so close. He reached out, grabbed her flesh, and sunk his fangs into the meat of her. Suckling from her. Feeding from her. It was glorious. He had never felt so filled, so intoxicated with her essence.

"You owe us big time for this, Hermione."

Finally he could see, and Draco looked up into her worried hazel eyes, never releasing her arm. He grunted as he fed and swallowed hungrily. A powerful orgasm rushed through his body and released its hold. Her eyes watched, lustfully, and he kept feeding from her. He would never get enough of her.

"Fucking hell. I can't unsee that."

"Quit whining both of you."

Suddenly, pain seared his body, and he screamed. Three pairs of eyes gazed down at him curiously: green, blue, and hazel. Another arm was presented to him, and he struggled to reach it through the pain. Draco's bonds were released, and he grabbed the male arm and sunk his fangs into the taught muscle with a grunt and began to feed again.

"There are not enough Quidditch matches in the world to make up for this."

He watched her drink a blue liquid, still eyeing him. He wanted her instead of the male, but she disappeared from his vision.

Slowly, he felt the haze of hunger dissipate. Clarity came to his senses. He pulled the arm out of his mouth and retracted his fangs, suddenly realizing who he was with, and who he was feeding from.

Wonderful.

But at least he wasn't ash.

He sneered and spit to the side. "I don't think I'll ever get the taste of you out of my mouth, Weasley."

The ginger popped the cork of another vial with blue liquid, chugged it down, and raised his eyebrows mockingly. "S'okay Malfoy. I know I'm irresistible."

Draco lifted himself and looked down the length of his naked body to see that he had spent himself on his thigh. Probably twice. His erection was slowly receding. He let his head fall back on the table with a thud and exhaled loudly, feeling slightly embarrassed. "You were slobbering all over Harry as well." Draco shifted his gaze to Potter's arm and saw him holding a bloodied bandage to his wrist.

"I'd prefer to forget this ever happened," the Chosen One said with an exaggerated shudder. "There's not a memory charm strong enough to remove the image of Malfoy naked and grunting against your arm like that."

"Don't be jealous, Potter" Draco said with a smirk. "You taste better than you look." His grin widened as Potter and Weasley each took a cautious step back.

Hermione returned, Scourgified him, and draped a blanket to cover his legs and lower torso. She hugged him, exhaling a shuddering breath as she did. He instinctually wrapped his arms around her warm, supple body and dug his hands into her hair, loosened from the tight bun she'd worn into battle. She kissed his cheek and whispered into his ear, "We thought we'd lost you."

"Yeah, that would have been terrible," Weasley quipped. Without missing a beat, Hermione smacked his stomach with the back of her hand.

She pulled away, and he saw unshed tears in her eyes.

Draco swiveled himself to a sitting position on the table, legs dangling over the edge and keeping the blanket covering his privates. He looked at the Golden Trio. "So that's it then?"

"That's it," Potter answered.

How odd. The three of them together at the end and… Him. He supposed the irony was not lost on them.

And what now?

Hermione reached out gently to clasp his fingers. He looked down at their hands in thought, rubbing the palm of her hand with the pad of his thumb. Every time they had met on the field, she had asked him to come and promised she would be there for him.

And here she was.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dolohov pressed Draco against the wall while Rowle pointed his wand into his throat. Draco swallowed with difficulty, the wand tip injuring his Adam's apple.

"You fucked up, Malfoy!" Dolohov hissed.

His only fuck up was allowing himself to be in a position where he could be blamed for Dolohov and Rowle's failure in the first place. They would face the Dark Lord's wrath when he found out the Order had freed all their prisoners. They were hoping to either minimize their own punishment by involving Draco, or pass it off onto him entirely. Draco winced as Dolohov's elbow pushed into his bicep.

"I should kill you now and leave your carcass for the blood traitors." Rowle backed away, anger and fear flashing in his brown eyes. Draco braced himself, but there was no way to prepare for what he knew was coming.

"Crucio!"

Draco screamed and dropped to the floor as white hot pain scorched his bones and flesh. His back arched, and his limbs splayed out to the side as his body contorted in agony. Suddenly, it stopped. He gasped for breath and rolled onto his side, clutching himself as tremors passed through.

"Crucio!"

Another scream ripped from his chest and out of his throat as the torture wracked his body. He tasted blood in his mouth and dug his fingers into the stone floor. Seconds ticked by slowly. He didn't know how much longer he could survive when an explosion blasted him through a door, flinging him against a wall in the adjacent room. His back slammed into stone, and he landed on his front.

Now freed from the Cruciatis, Draco tried to stand, but his head swam, having just sustained a head injury. His body was such a mess of pain that he couldn't locate any specific wound but he knew something was terribly wrong with his leg. Looking down, he saw wood from the door protruding from his thigh. He felt like he was going to vomit, but passed out instead.

Draco woke up to a nervous tapping sound. He was lying on his back. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. His leg, head, and back hurt, but it wasn't the mind-numbing pain that he had experienced prior to losing consciousness. His hand twitched reflexively, and he felt small, warm fingers resting in his palm. Confused, he opened his eyes a crack but only saw the ceiling of the room he had been thrown into. He tried to raise himself onto his elbows. The tapping stopped, and the small fingers rubbed his knuckles gently.

"Wait," advised a soft, feminine voice. "Don't move yet."

Hermione?

A coil of desire spread through his body in anticipation, despite his pain and discomfort. Leaning back down, he heard a shuffling of fabric as her face appeared above him, a worried look creasing her brow. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun.

She placed her warm hands on his cheeks and looked into his eyes, humming as she assessed him for a concussion and spinal injury. Draco tried to relax as she poked and prodded him with her hands and her wand, but his muscles were still tense after the effects of the Cruciatis and being thrown bodily into this room. Finally, he felt the tip of her wand press against the side of his abdomen. Warmth entered his side, radiated outward, and spread throughout his body.

He sighed audibly, feeling his muscles relax. With difficulty, he rolled his broad shoulders and extended his legs, stretching his back, flexing his muscles experimentally.

"Thank—" he rasped, his dry throat choking on the words.

She conjured a cup of water for him to drink, helping raise his head and holding the cup to his lips. Cool water soothed his parched throat. He drank thirstily, swallowing in loud gulps. She tilted the cup more, and he swallowed too much. Draco coughed, turned his head to the side, and sprayed the water on the stone floor.

"Sorry."

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked up into her hazel eyes.

"S'okay."

"No really, I'm sorry. I'm the one who blasted you through the door," she said, apprehensive at her confession.

He raised his eyebrows in a question. "Did you get Rowle and Dolohov?"

She looked affronted. "Of course."

He smiled inwardly. "Worth it." He took another sip of water and eyed her small figure. She sat next to him, leaning against the stone wall.

Petite and deadly.

She pursed her lips, staring straight forward in thought. Then she looked back down at him. "You're all in masks. I can't pull my punches thinking it might be you."

"And so you shouldn't." He furrowed his brows at her in annoyance. "Ever."

"I would never intentionally—" Her tone was apologetic.

"I know," he assured her, lightly squeezing her fingers. "Don't ever hold back."

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again. "Draco?"

Hope strained her voice and pulled on his heart. Made him despair. He wanted to go with her. He wanted to get out. But he didn't know how to do it without leaving his parents to be tortured and killed. "Nothing's changed, Hermione. I can't go with you."

She nodded in reluctant acceptance. He knew she wouldn't stop asking.

"Every time I'm out in the field, ever since Greyback,"—Draco flinched after she spoke his name—"I wonder if it's you I'm hitting. Sometimes I dream…" Her voice tapered off and he saw her throat constrict as she swallowed and blinked back tears. "It's terrible. I want to help you."

"I know." He knew that she cared about him, cared quite a lot, but it still warmed him to hear her talk of thinking about him in this way. Worrying about him.

He struggled to sit, supporting himself on his elbows when he noticed another body across the room, unmoving. "Who's that?" He tilted his chin in the female body's direction.

Hermione turned to the unconscious person. "Hannah Abbot," she answered. "She has a head injury, much worse than yours. I stabilized her but can't Apparate or Portkey us out. Travel might cause her permanent damage. I'm waiting for a Healer to come and treat her so it will be safe to do so. It'll be a while. They're busy healing the prisoners."

Draco processed the information. He trusted her to ensure that he wasn't taken by the Order unless he asked. She knew he was protecting his parents. He slipped his hand under her leg and clenched her thigh possessively. It was warm. He felt her muscles tense, but she didn't remove his hand. He inched it higher and felt his cock twitch when she bit her lip in reaction.

He turned his head to her. It hurt, and a wave of dizziness washed over him from the elevation. So he lay back down, turning to face her. "What happened?"

She repositioned herself so that she was lying on the floor beside him. Her thigh slid out of his grasp, and she brought his empty hand up to her lips. "We extracted all the prisoners. The Order secured the building and took a few captives from your side. It's just us here now. There's four patrolling outside."

Aside from the part where he had blacked out, there must have been less than five minutes from the time when they realized the prisoner compound was being raided, to the realization that they had already lost most of the prisoners. Sheer panic had ensued, leading to Draco being Crucio'd.

There were no frills. No excess.

He quirked an eyebrow suspiciously at her, trying not to wince from the pain in his leg. "Did you have a hand in…" He gestured vaguely around him. "This?" The Order had known the routines, the alarms, the wards, and the layout of the compound better than Voldemort's army had. It was an uncharacteristically brutal and efficient operation, timed impeccably. Someone had done their homework. An extremely well researched raid.

"Yes," she said with a mirthless chuckle. "This is the first time they gave me a senior role in planning an operation of this magnitude. I'm still learning" She looked into his eyes again, assessing him, worried. "I can't do much else for you without potions. My knowledge of healing is limited." She bit her lip in thought. "I could do another muscle relaxant charm— a weak one."

He thought of the warm feeling that coursed through his body earlier, easing the tension caused by his pain. But he knew they were dangerous when overused. "Yeah, maybe one more. That would help."

Hermione raised her wand between their bodies and murmured the incantation, pressed the tip to his chest. Draco's eyelids momentarily closed as warmth suffused from his chest, spreading outwards through his limbs. His leg stopped hurting, and he let out a quiet moan of relief.

He opened his eyes again and saw her studying him. Her lips moved softly against his fingertips, giving him little tingles of warmth and arousal. He wished his back and head weren't so injured. He'd crawl on top of her and kiss her until she moaned. It had been so long since anyone had touched him with affection. Since their gentle kiss in the woods.

"Draco?" she whispered. He brought his hand to her cheek, gently rubbing her skin. She looked nervous, unsure of herself, and he waited for her to continue. "I saw what they do… What they did to the prisoners. If I were captured…" She paused and stared into his eyes, looking for something. "I don't want to be a virgin. To have that ruined for me. I want to have a good memory with someone I…." She paused, looking for the correct words. "With someone I care about."

A dam inside of him broke, and his cock pressed against the confines of his trousers. Hermione must have seen the lust on his face. She slowly moved on top of him, draping one leg around his hip, slithering astride him. Her warm body was all over him, and he struggled to move, trying to hold her still so he could kiss her face, jaw, and neck, grab her and rub her over him at the same time. He tried to roll them over so he could be on top. He needed her. Wanted to make it good for her. Wanted her to have this with him forever. Just like she wanted. Just like he wanted. His back protested the movement, however, and he lay back down with a grunt.

"Draco." She panted his name in between breathless kisses. "Draco?"

"Mmmmphhfffff ." He couldn't manage to answer.

"You don't—" She groaned as his lips found her ear and sucked. "You don't have to move. I don't care, I just want y—"

He cut her off with a desperate, heated kiss, and her words turned into a groan. He clutched the back of her thigh and her rear. He couldn't get enough of her, skimming his fingers into her hair, under her shirt, beneath her waistline. He dug his fingers into her arse, into her breasts, anywhere he could feel her soft flesh. He was rock hard and thrust up into the heat between her legs.

"Always wanted you…" He spoke softly, trying to push her trousers down.

He'd forgotten that touch could be pleasurable. The only sex he had seen or experienced himself since Sixth Year had been coerced and painful . Greyback, Muggles and Muggle-borns, blood traitors. For him, for them, it was always a punishment. He had come to loathe anything sexual and felt nausea at the mere thought of being touched in that way.

But this was different. It was warm and comforting, pure and loving . He tasted her breath, captured the feel of her skin, swallowed her moans. Their bodies were entwined on the floor, and her mouth and hands were on his face, his throat, under his clothing. She was hot and needy. She pulled his trousers down and he whimpered as she lowered herself onto him. It was too slow; he wanted her. His arms trembled as he gripped her hips, doing all he could not to thrust forward, up and into her. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore she sank onto him and she gasped. He gave her a moment to adjust. Her heat was everywhere. He was encased. Surrounded. He shuddered as she settled flush on top of him. He dug his fingers into her flesh and she winced.

"Sorry," he panted into her mouth.

"Don't be," was her breathy response. And she moved, and he groaned, and she keened. He reached down between her legs, trying to get at her clit. He wanted to make it good for her.

"No." She groaned and flattened herself against him, grabbing his hand and moving it back to her rear. "I want to feel your skin. Want to feel you."

He'd give her whatever she wanted. He licked and sucked on her neck, eliciting a whimper as he matched her thrusts, trying to create friction for her. Her thighs clenched around him and he moved as much as his pained back would allow.

"Oh. Yes. J ust like that." Hermione rubbed her cheek against his and gasped again. He kept thrusting into her. Her mouth was on his throat, and he dug his fingers into her hair, pulling it out of her bun. Her legs wrapped round his, her hands and mouth everywhere. She slipped against him, both of them sweating from their combined heat, when suddenly, she stopped. Hermione shuddered. A half moan, half gasp caught in her throat as she fell apart around him.

Draco held her tight while she trembled atop him. One arm across her back, holding her flush against him, and the other clutching the back of her skull, fingers pressing into her. He sobbed a moan as his release burst into her. And he still held her tight. He didn't want to let her go. His arms flexed and tensed as he kept her molded to him atop his body.

She let him hold her long after her trembling stopped and tenderly—so tenderly—she kissed his tears away. Her lips pressed gentle, soft kisses on his cheeks, on his eyelids, on his forehead. He let out another sob and clutched her tightly. He wanted it to always be like this. He couldn't go back to where every touch meant pain.

"Don't go," he pleaded.

"Sssshhhhh." She kissed and nuzzled his face. "I'm with you. It's okay."

It was okay now, in these precious few minutes that she was here. It wouldn't be when she left. It would end, and he'd have to go back.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You're free," Hermione said, her voice lilting.

Draco bit his lip in thought. He was finally able to come to her, but he couldn't stay. He couldn't be with her. He sighed. It was all over, and they still didn't have time to be together.

"Not entirely."

"I'm going to solve this." Hermione looked into his eyes determinedly and clutched his hand tighter. "Wolfsbane helps Bill and Lupin live normal lives. Don't do anything…" She paused a few seconds before choosing her next word. "Stupid." Her words hung in the air in between them.

"Even if you help me, what then? I'm still a vampire. I'll be 23 forever. It's a solitary existence." He swallowed thickly. He had no friends, no family, and he couldn't start one of his own. He couldn't give Hermione children. They couldn't even stay together. Even if they could keep his blood lust under control, she'd grow old and eventually die. And he'd have to watch.

"You have family." Potter's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Draco shifted his gaze to him. He thought the Order knew. "My parents—"

"You have an aunt and a cousin that are extremely curious about you," Potter explained. Draco briefly remembered Tonks from their previous meetings discussing battle strategies.

"She's married to Lupin," Hermione added. "They have a little boy, Teddy." Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise. He knew next to nothing about those his family had disowned. "He'll need someone to teach him how to fly a broom in a few years," she continued, seeing the curious interest in his eyes. "Life goes on, and there will be more people in your life. They've already got a werewolf in the family. I don't think it's a stretch to accept a vampire who is in control of himself."

"You're awfully optimistic," Draco drawled, but couldn't help but feel a bit less alone.

"We just killed Voldemort and won the Second Wizarding War." Weasley looked at Draco as if he had grown another head. "Of course we are."

"And you have friends," Hermione added. Weasley coughed loudly, and Potter looked extremely uncomfortable, but held his gaze. Draco rolled his eyes.

Gryffindors.

She was right, though. The future didn't feel as bleak anymore. And yet, there was no way he could be with Hermione. It wasn't fair to her. He had to let her go so she would move on. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.

"I can't, Hermione." An expression of relief appeared on Weasley's face while Potter regarded him with respect.

Hermione's face fell. "You promised you wouldn't leave."

"I'll still be around, but not like that. Not with you."

"Give me time." She was pleading with him, but his eyes held hers in a steely gaze.

"I have time. Too much of it."

"Do you still want to be with me?"

"More than anything."

"Then let me help you."